


Motherfucking Winchesters on a Motherfucking Plane

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-28
Updated: 2006-08-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Winchesters on a plane filled with snakes. Need I say more?





	

Sam could feel the vibrations of Dean's slightly desperate humming through the armrest that separated them. He still wasn't quite sure how he'd persuaded Dean to go to Hawaii in the first place, but the series of grisly murders had given him something to focus on when they were flying over. Now that the spirit was vanquished and they were on their way home, Dean was back into terrified mode.  


“Dean,” he said quietly. The humming stopped. “That couple have been in the toilet for half an hour now." Dean smirked, although his fingers were still beating out a nervous drum beat on his knee.  


“Don't you think we should be worried?” said Sam.  


Dean's grin got wider. “Hey, don't cramp their style.” He started humming again.  


Sam frowned at the closed toilet door, but was distracted from his train of thought by a movement by his feet. He looked down, but couldn't see anything in the darkness under the seat.  


Before he could debate whether or not to mention it to Dean, the plane gave a jolt and Dean's humming became louder. There was another lurch and his hands gripped the armrest with white knuckles. There was another violent pitch, and then the oxygen masks descended, as well as more snakes than Sam had seen in one place since that awful Voodoo thing in New Orleans. He gave what he afterwards described as a panicked yelp, and what Dean called a girly scream. The next few minutes were a combination of fear, panic and snakes. Dean's fear of flying seemed to disappear in a rush of adrenaline as they tried to move into the forward cabin, whacking snakes with Dad's journal and Sam's copy of 'The Cider House Rules' and trying to get as many of the other passengers safely out with them.

Once in the forward cabin, Dean quickly inspected Sam for bites, and then grabbed the fire extinguisher and began to spray it at the snakes.  


“I swear to God,” he said as Sam piled up luggage as a barrier, “this is the last time you are ever, EVER getting me on a plane.”  


“I'm beginning to think you might be right,” said Sam.  


He was mildly relieved when the FBI agent took charge of the situation – he and Dean might have been able to cope if it was ghost snakes, but their knowledge of how to deal with non-supernatural situations was limited.  


They spent the next half an hour trying to keep the snakes from breaching the barriers between the cabins while the others dealt with the air-con problems and tried to help those who had been bitten. When the extinguishers all ran out, they broke off a couple of tray tables and tried to keep the snakes back with them, but it became clear they were going to have to retreat upstairs. Dean whacked slightly desperately at the snakes swarming over the barrier while Sam attempted to organise the evacuation enough to avoid a panicked crush. Once upstairs, and behind the dubious safety of the liferaft, they sank down into a pair of seats and exchanged glances.  


“You know, if we ever tell Dad about this, there's no way he's going to believe us,” said Dean.  


“I'm not sure I believe it,” said Sam, “and I'm here.”  


Dean nodded in agreement and then focussed on Three G's, who seemed to be having some kind of panic attack. He stood up when the rapper grabbed Agent Flynn's gun and started shouting. Agent Flynn held his hands out in the universal 'calm down' gesture, which distracted Three G's enough for Dean to kick him swiftly in the back of the knee. He crumpled to the floor as his knee folded, and Agent Flynn plucked the gun from his hand as he went down. He gave Dean a narrow-eyed look, which Dean returned with his most innocent smile before sliding back into the seat next to Sam.  


“You know, I'd think this was one of my nightmares if it was less crazy. And involved Jess,” said Sam. Dean gave him a quick glance at the mention of Jess, but Sam looked more thoughtful than upset.  


“I'm pretty sure it's going to figure in my nightmares,” he replied.

“Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!” said the agent, angrily waving his gun around, “Everyone! Strap in!”  


Sam noticed Dean's hands starting to shake as he followed the order, and then Agent Flynn blew out the windows, and there was confusion, noise and a gale rushing out through the hole in the fuselage. Dean had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and was humming again – a single, drawn-out monotone, so he reached out and put his hand over Dean's. Dean grabbed at it like he was drowning and held on to it so hard Sam felt his bones pop. The air continued to whistle passed them and the plane continued to plummet. Sam began to make a mental list of things he wished he'd done before he'd died, although he was a little distracted by the increasingly excruciating pain in his hand. When the plane levelled out, Dean gave a deep shuddering death and managed to pull himself together enough to let go and grip his armrest instead as they came into land.

Once they were safely on the ground, and most of the excitement was over, Dean turned to Sam and said, “I am never, never, leaving the ground again.” Sam nodded.  


A pretty brunette paramedic brought them over a couple of blankets and asked, “are either of you guys bitten?”  


It was proof of just how scared Dean had been that his 'No, we're fine' wasn't accompanied by a flirtatious smile.  


“Actually,” said Sam before she moved away, “I think my hand's broken.” He felt Dean's eyes on him, but didn't look round.  


“Wow, that's pretty bad,” she said, looking at it, “you'll need an X-Ray, but I think you've probably broken several of the bones. Did you get it crushed somewhere?”  


Sam continued to not look at Dean, but he felt him shuffle his feet beside him. “Something like that,” he said.

It turned out that two of his fingers were broken and one of his knuckles cracked. Dean didn't say anything, but he did buy Sam a new copy of 'The Cider House Rules.' Dad's journal, luckily, had survived mainly intact, and the snake blood had wiped off, barely leaving a stain.

A few weeks later, Dean stood in the middle of a haunted mansion and yelled, “I have had it with the motherfucking ghost in this motherfucking house!” and then cocked his shotgun.  


Sam glared at him and received an unrepentant smirk in return.  


Back at the motel, while Dean was in the shower, Sam put the plastic snake he'd bought a week ago in Dean's bed.


End file.
